


Saving Face

by Lenny9987



Series: Gaps in Canon [5]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Book 2: Dragonfly in Amber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of my Gaps in Canon series. Set during Dragonfly in Amber.</p>
<p>Just what happened at the brothel and how Jamie started the La Dame Blanche rumor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Face

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted fic from Tumblr.
> 
> "Anonymous said: Can you write a fanfic in regards to what Jamie was thinking, his perspective, while he was trying to resist the whores at the whorehouse with the Bonny Prince and his entourage? And maybe his thought process when being teased and how he came up with the White Witch excuse? I love reading your blog everyday!! *sorry if this is not the right place to send fanfic requests."

The bite on his thigh was the last straw - it was too close to the usually playful, occasionally impassioned bites Claire gave him when he took her to bed. 

He jumped from his seat simultaneously knocking the woman over. “Did I no tell ye to stop!” he shouted at her, his hands pressing his kilt down as best he could - and concealing his arousal as best he could. He _didn’t_ want the whore on her knees, cowering in front of him. He’d tried being polite in his refusals but the woman had ignored him, redoubling her efforts. He’d struggled to put thoughts of Claire out of his mind but it had proved impossible and only made matters worse as his desire for her became confused with the whore’s touch. 

At his sudden outburst, much of the activity in the room quieted, patrons and girls watching to see how the situation would be handled. Many looked to the large man near the door whose job it was to protect the girls but when he looked to the madam she shook her head and stepped forward to deal with the matter personally.

“Is there a problem _monsieur_? Would you perhaps prefer a different woman?” 

“I want nothing more than to be left in peace, madam,” he responded in a calmer manner. “Or is this how what ye train yer lasses to do? Force their trade where they’re no wanted and then shake yer patrons down for services rendered.” The woman had risen to the floor glaring with wounded pride. 

“Why do you come if it is not for the girls?” the madam challenged. 

“My companions may partake of what they will when it comes to the lasses,” he explained, indicating the rest of his party, “but if all I care to purchase is bottle after bottle of yer _overpriced_ wine, yer still making money from me,” he pointed out. The madam’s eyes flicked to where three empty bottles lay on the table with a fourth half gone before returning to Jamie. “If this is what you consider service, perhaps I’ll treat my friends at a _different_  establishment when the occasion next arises.” 

There were muffled laughs from the men of his party and their companions though whether they were laughing at him or the madam, he wasn’t sure. 

“My apologies, _monsieur_ ,” she said, backing down. “I’m sure you understand there are few who are _not_  eager to join the _mademoiselles_  - after all, you’ve been _watching_  your companions for some time. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, was it not, Evelene?” She turned to the young woman who could not bring herself to do more than nod to acknowledge her mistake. “Come, Evelene. Henriette could use your assistance with the party in the corner.”

The madam led the young woman away and Jamie resumed his seat, temper firmly under control once more though he could feel his face was still flushed - with embarrassment, with frustration, with arousal, with shame. Charles was the first to give over to his amusement with the others they’d accumulated during the course of the evening joining in until Jamie finally gave in and laughed at himself. 

“I afraid I too do not understand why you object,” the Duc di Castellotti admitted. 

“I couldna do something like that with my wife in the condition she’s in,” he tried to explain. 

“If anything I should think your wife’s condition was precisely the reason you _should_  partake of the opportunity,” Charles objected with a laugh. “Take out your urges on another and let your poor wife rest.”

Jamie’s hand clenched into a fist but he was able to swallow his anger. “While I believe my wife would appreciate the concern for her person, I dinna think she’d agree with the result.” 

His companions were unwilling to accept that reasoning. “And what if your wife does not approve? Why should that be an impediment to your pleasure? After all, she need never know.” Millefleurs tossed his opinion into the conversation. 

Jamie tensed as a half-formed thought rooted in superstitious tales he’d overheard during his days fighting alongside Ian occurred to him but he hesitated to follow the track aloud. “Ye havena met my wife, monsieur,” he voiced, still undecided as to whether it would get them off his back or give them leave to rib him worse than ever.

“You are right. I have not had the pleasure,” Millefleurs confirmed. He looked to the rest of the group to confer via glances with those who had. Jamie’s confidence grew as he watched them. Anyone who met Claire knew there was something undeniably different about her though he doubted any would ever be able to put their finger on precisely what. Why _not_  supply them with an explanation? 

“My wife… she would know whether I told her or no. She… well, she has her ways,” he replied with a smile as he committed to the half-formed idea. “I think ye’d call her… _la dame blanche -_ does that sound right?”


End file.
